My father had been one of those who had decided to go exploring in the vast wastes of the Talles Varineris canyon and had never returned. It was believed he had been transfixed by its beauty and had wandered into the canyon’s great fissures and been lost forever. My mother had loved him deeply, and was never the same again. She suffered from melancholia and spent most of mine and my brother’s childhood staring at the wall, as if unable to move or function until our father’s return. My brother and I were, therefore, often left to do as we pleased. Paul was more studious than I was and often spent his time with his head in books which had been brought down into The Hollows from the world above. He was interested in the art and the films made by the Vampyrus named Burton. I on the other hand, was interested by the world above, but not by the books and works of art – but by the adventures I hoped to find there. With my mother pretty much comatose most of the time, it didn’t take much effort on my part to sneak away from home through the tunnels and the wells and out into the world above.
